Gates of the Promised Land
by Squibakou
Summary: Harry Potter fights the last battle, but who must be sacrificed for the greater good? A songxintegrated storyline fic. Rated for violence and character death, sorry!


**Author's ramblings: **I rediscovered one of my dad's CDs (he's the writer, lead vocalist and rhythmic guitarist in a band called The Outfit), and thought I'd make a song/story fic to one of the songs. This is AU, and depicts the ending battle, it's very sad, kind of H/G, but not really in the end. Remus is DADA teacher, Dumbledore's alive and Snape is good- forget the original plotline please.

Song: Gates of the Promised Land by Bob Leslie

Bob Leslie- Lead vocal, harmony, and rhythm guitar

Alex Mack- Lead guitar, harmony

Chris Glen- Bass guitar and growl (Sensational Alex Harvey band)

Ted McKenna- Drums (Sensational Alex Harvey band)

_**Gates of the Promised Land lyrics.**_

Storyline.

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter isn't mine, and the song is my father's, of which I am very proud.

xxxx

_**I saw an ancient picture**_

_**Of a young girl, who just ran**_

_**Clothed in fire,**_

_**Dressed in anguish;**_

_**The fine handy-work of man.**_

"I can't stay with you, don't you understand? I'm not going to be responsible for yet another person's death-"

Ginny looked up at him, tears staining her face, pain etched in her expression. Clutching at his arms, the red-haired girl pleaded, "Don't say that, Harry! Please…if I were to die in this war then I'd want to do it knowing you still loved me! Don't leave me alone now, please…please, Harry, don't do that to me. I can't live without you!"

Harry steeled himself in the face of her grief; he had hoped not to do it this way. Carefully setting his face in an indifferent expression, he brushed her hands from his arms and turned his face to the side, refusing to look her in the eyes lest he be swayed.

"I never loved you, Ginny. You were just there. We would have had to part eventually, when I got bored of you. I just did not want an innocent person killed, is all. I never loved you," he repeated, turning to look at her.

Ginny had all the while been staring up at him, disbelief flowing from every pore. When he'd finished she shook her head, slowly, from side to side, as if she could shake away the cruel words that Harry had said. She twisted her fingers together in anguish, eyes fixed on Harry's face.

Harry stared back, his bright green eyes boring into her very soul, stabbing betrayal into her heart again and again.

Finally, she nodded, a shiver running down her spine, raising a hand, she gently caressed Harry's cheek, and Harry almost gave in, before reminding himself that what he was doing was for her, to save her. He twisted away from her loving touch and stalked away, feeling her eyes burning into his back, knowing she would never forgive him, even after the war was over.

_**And I thought that it was all over now**_

_**And a lesson had been learned.**_

Harry observed his ex-girlfriend from across the common room. She was talking to Seamus Finnegan, flirting even, and Harry was surprised to find he didn't mind so much. The creature in his chest has fallen asleep, it seemed- maybe he _was_ telling the truth when he told her he didn't love her. Still, he was a little hurt that she didn't seem to mourn their parting, even just a little bit.

Sighing, Harry looked back down at the potions essay he was supposed to be doing; it was all for the best after all, he reasoned.

Later, when the common room had emptied a little and Ginny had gone upstairs to bed, Harry finally finished his homework. He was staring blankly out the window, pondering the impending war, when a loud noise startled him. The portrait door swung open with a bang and Ron came in brandishing a special evening rendition of the Daily Prophet, closely followed by Hermione.

"Hey guys, what's up?" asked Harry, bewildered at their grinning faces.

Ron slammed the Prophet down on the table, spinning it to face Harry. Before he could read it however, Ron gushed, "My dad's been promoted! He was checking out a report on some man-eating dustbins when he discovered a huge stash of really dangerous cursed items! The kind they're always trying to pin on Lucius Malfoy. Now he's the Head of the department of cursed artefacts and improper magical use!"

Ron was practically bouncing off the walls, Harry grinned widely, "That's fantastic, Ron! Good for him!" Hermione rolled her eyes, "don't encourage him, he might combust," she warned, smiling.

They laughed, and Harry opened the paper to see if there was any other good news. There was a report on the capture of a minor death eater, but the name wasn't disclosed, and someone had been arrested on suspicion of being a spy. Throughout the entire paper he found very little mention of the war.

"No death eater activity in weeks, maybe they're recruiting, or saving their strength?"

Ron said vehemently, "And maybe he's scared, hiding away in the hole he belongs."

Harry hoped he was right; maybe it would all turn out OK in the end.

_**But the sky still falls,**_

_**And fathers weep,**_

_**And the young girl; she still burns.**_

Harry looked up as once again the common room door swung open, banging against the wall. Ron and Hermione came in, and Ron clutched another newspaper in his hand.

"What happened? Ron? Hermione?" Harry asked, worried. Their expressions were downcast, Hermione standing close to Ron whose face was turned to the ground.

"Ron?" Harry stood up, his chair scraping on the floor.

The newspaper dropped from Ron's fingers as if he'd lost control of the muscles there, he looked up. Harry was shocked to see the misery in his face, tear tracks staining his cheeks.

"Ron! What happened?!" gasped Harry, rushing towards his best friend.

Ron looked up into his eyes, and for a moment reminded him strongly of Ginny as he told her he didn't love her. He said something, but it was so soft that Harry couldn't hear.

"Ron, what, what is it?"

"They've got her, they've got my mum. Those bastards have taken my mum."

Harry stared at him in shock. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he grabbed Ron in a rough hug, feeling the boy shiver in his grasp. Hermione joined in, and the three of them stood there in the middle of the Griffindor common room, letting their grief wash over them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Seeing the grown man break down so completely was such a shocking sight that all anyone could do was stare and quietly weep their own tears at the Weasley father's anguish. The children were all present, and upon hearing the news that Mrs Weasley was really gone, now confirmed dead, they huddled together, seeking warmth from each other, sharing the pain.

Harry noticed one redhead sibling was missing from the cluster, and was lucky enough to see a glimpse of red hair disappearing out the door. Whispering an excuse to Hermione, sure she hadn't really heard it through her grief even as she nodded, he left the room.

Harry finally saw Ginny in the Astronomy tower, and was about to go comfort her, when he remembered she probably hated him now. He decided he should just go back, wondering to himself why he followed her in the first place. A scream of raw pain stopped him; looking back he saw her fall to her knees and crash her elbows into the stone floor, lacing her fingers over her head. She shook as tears rolled down her cheeks and gasps of pure misery erupted from her lips.

Harry watched the display from the shadows outside the door, his heart going to her.

She lay on the floor, curled up and crying for an age, and Harry felt he should comfort her, even if she did hate him. But something stopped him; he wanted to comfort her because he knew what it felt like to lose a loved one, because she was his friend's sister, because it was the right thing to do- he searched for something inside him, something that felt for her, and found he couldn't find anything. Nothing, the beast had died, the love had gone, and now all he saw was yet another victim of Voldemort, yet another person he had to avenge. Turning his back on the girl, he walked away without her even knowing he'd been there.

_**And it's 'Hey Johnny-boy, where you marching too,**_

_**With your gun cradled in you hand?**_

_**Hey Johnny-boy, is the finish line**_

_**At the gates of the promised land?**_

_**At the gates of the promised land!'**_

Harry sat down on the stone floor, exhausted. Remus looked at him, smiling, if a little grimly. Holding out a hand, he helped Harry up and gave him a big piece of chocolate. Harry accepted it gratefully, biting down on the sweet substance.

"You've done well, my boy, I've never known anyone who could progress as fast as this, but you must remember not to push yourself too far. It'll only weaken you."

"I know," said Harry through a mouthful of chocolate, "but if I don't try hard I'll never be good enough to beat Voldemort."

Remus winced slightly at the name, but not as much as he used to, Harry was right, it was stupid to be afraid of a name. Especially as there were more terrifying things to worry about, such as the man himself.

Harry finished his chocolate and took out his wand, ready for another round of training. Remus laid his hand gently on the wand, "I think that's enough for today, if not for you, then for me! Do you have any idea how late it is?"

Laughing, Harry stashed his wand into the folds of his robes. His face grew serious. "Remus? Do you really think I can do this? A war! An entire world fighting, and everyone depends on me, the Saviour, the Boy-Who-Lived! I just…" He sat down in a chair infront of the old werewolf's desk and put his head in his hands. Lupin crouched down.

"Harry. Honestly, I don't know, no one can know what will happen. Curse the evil creature that made it so your life is like this, a boy should not have to deal with so much so young. But only you can know if you can do this: do you believe? Do you believe in you heart that you can save us? Don't think of a sense of duty, or for others, just you, what do you think you're capable of?"

"I-"

"Don't answer now, if you feel you can do it, then you will and then I will know your answer. Now away with you, I'm sure you could do with some sleep."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Harry rubbed his eyes, wondering what time it was. Not that it mattered, he still had to do this regardless of the time.

Harry was studying, not for his classes, no, he knew that after Remus Lupin's words he would have to find something, anything, that would help him defeat Voldemort. He knew he wasn't really strong enough on his own, he could admit that to himself, but if found something, a spell or potion that would help, he might have a fighting chance.

Sighing, he pushed aside one heavy leather-bound tomb and reached out for another. Flicking it open at a random page somewhere in the middle he peered at the words through his glasses. At the top of the page read the title, 'Curses of Olde'. Curious and maybe slightly hopeful, he read on.

The first paragraph described how these curses have fallen into disuse, sometimes because of their disastrous side effects and sometimes because the incantations had simply been lost in time. Reading on, engrossed, he found spells that would destroy buildings, level mountains and even transfigure things so permanently that they could never be reversed – unfortunately such incantations came with no words, and their wonders were lost forever.

Harry read through the passages, hoping against hope that he might find something that would help him, and just when he thought he was out of luck, he found something. Grinning grimly he noted down the incantation, and left the library with a sweep of his cloak.

_**Once more, we hear our master's call,**_

_**As for centuries and more.**_

Harry was hurrying, late due to the previous night's activities, to Transfiguration when the headmaster stopped him.

"Harry, I have grave news, please come to my office." He gestured, and Harry followed, confused. When they reached the Gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office, Harry was shocked to hear the password was 'hiulcus', rather than the assortment of sweets he was used to.

When they reached the top of the stairs Dumbledore opened the doors to his office and strode through, sitting at his desk, motioning for Harry to sit at the chair on the other side of the table. As Harry sat he steepled his fingers together, and looked at the boy over his half-moon glasses.

"I'll get straight to the point then, Harry, Severus, or Professor Snape to you, has gone missing, and it is believed Voldemort discovered that he was a spy and killed him."

Harry nodded dourly; he'd never liked the man but still felt a pang at the news of his death.

"We no longer have an inside man, so Voldemort could surprise us at any given time. I want you to be especially careful, also, if you so wish, warn your friends but please do not cause a widespread panic. That is not what we need right now."

Nodding in agreement, Harry left the headmaster in his office and walked slowly to class, knowing he was already late anyway.

When he reached Transfiguration, and explained to Professor McGonagall why he was late, he sat down next to Ron and Hermione. Noticing his slightly dazed state they asked him what happened.

"Snape's been discovered and is in all likely-hood dead. We don't have a spy anymore, Voldemort could attack at any moment and we'll have no warning," explained Harry in a whisper.

Hermione gasped, covering her mouth, "what will we do? None of us liked him, but he played a vital role in our defence."

Harry shrugged,distracted, suddenly hit by how few people were in the classroom. "Where is everybody?"

Hermione looked around, "The Death Eaters are making a comeback, already there have been some terrible losses. Family members and friends, the students are being pulled out of school every day."

Ron sighed and shook his head, "Don't they realise the safest place right now is here?"

_**Caesars, kings and emperors**_

_**Have summoned us to war.**_

'ARE WE REALLY GOING TO PUT OUR LIVES IN THE HANDS OF A BOY?' asked the headlines of that day's Prophet. People were already looking at Harry, sizing him up. Harry growled in the back of his throat, "After all I've done! Those ungrateful-"

Hermione's hand on his arm calmed him, and reminded him that a large portion of the school was staring at him. Rolling up the paper so as he wouldn't have to look at the picture of him looking around gormlessly on the front page he continued with his breakfast.

Headmaster Dumbledore stood up and clinked his glass with a fork, the sound reverberating impossibly loud around the room.

"As we all know, war is impending and I'd just like to remind you all that doubt will not help us." At this he looked pointedly down at the students. "I need you all to prepare, stay together and keep safe. Don't go out at night and never leave the grounds unless accompanied by an adult. Do these things if you value you life. If we are attacked-"

The pupils and teachers started discussing the chance of them being attacked. Dumbledore stopped and waited patiently for them to calm down so he could continue.

"-_if_ we are attacked, I want all the students to stay away wherever possible, run, don't fight unless you absolutely must. The older students are to help out where they can, but under no circumstances go looking or put yourself in unnecessary danger. United we can defeat this turmoil; don't let yourself be swayed by petty squabbles between houses. Everyone here is to be treated equally, is that understood?"

A murmur ran through the hall, students making small noises of approval that escalated into loud roars and cheers. Dumbledore looked pleased at the display of loyalty, even if the cheering was somewhat muted at the Slytherin table.

"I'd like to say something!" called a voice over the noise. The overlaying voices quietened when they saw who had spoken.

"Harry?" asked Dumbledore, as surprised as Harry appeared at having spoken.

"Err…I just, wondered: What are we really fighting for? I know that Voldemort is evil and must be stopped, and that muggle-borns and halfbloods do no wrong. But if you think about it, what makes us fight? What are you fighting for?" He turned to Ron, the question hanging in the air.

"My mum! He killed her and I'll never forgive him," snarled Ron, remembering when he first found out about her death.

"And you?" said Harry, asking Neville.

"My parents," Neville said quietly.

"And you?"

"My sister."

"My friend."

"My dad."

"All of you are fighting for the death of someone," Harry addressed the whole hall now, "but is that not revenge? I don't think you should fight for revenge. I'm fighting because I believe what Voldemort is doing is wrong and he should be stopped, I'm the one who's life he ruined the worst, I should be wanting revenge for the death of my parents, of my godfather, but that's not the way you should think. Fighting for revenge is just an excuse, if you truly want to fight, fight for good, for love. Don't throw your life away tracking down the killers of family, friends, life is too precious."

Harry finished and sat down, ignoring the school, that at that point was staring at him in its entirety. When he'd finished his breakfast Harry got up to leave, but paused as a single voice rent the air.

"Well Potter," sneered Malfoy, "that was impressive, finally found some guts did you? Not that I agree, the Dark Lord is the most powerful wizard on earth, what makes you think you can beat him, when all you fight for is 'good'? Who's to saw what You-Know-Who fights for isn't 'good'?"

Harry started forward but Ron beat him to it, running up to the offending Slytherin and sinking his fist into his stomach. Kicking him in the side for good measure he walked back to Harry. "_That _was for him."

_**Yet the turtle's voice cannot be heard,**_

_**And the singing-birds are dumb,**_

_**And the vineyards stink of cordites**_

_**Where Abraham was born.**_

Crashes and screams woke Harry. Scrabbling for his glasses, he shoved them on and jumped out of bed, grabbing his wand before running out of the dormitory in his pyjamas.

"Harry!" Ron yelled from behind him, "What's going on? Are we under attack?"

Harry ignored him, too busy running towards the terrible sounds of war, desperately hoping that Ron was wrong.

As he charged into the Entrance Hall he ground to a halt, bodies flew in the air, and red and green streaks of light burned through the throngs. The smell of singed flesh wafted under Harry's nose, and he gagged at the stench. Covering the lower half of his face, he ran forward, flinging stunning curses as the dark masked figures that threatened his friends.

The fighting was thickest at the door where the Death Eaters streamed in. Desperate attempts to stop them were slowly but surely failing.

"How did they get in without anyone knowing, what happened to the wards?" Harry asked himself out loud.

Remus Lupin came up behind him and they stood back to back, covering each other as they shot spells left and right.

"They…disabled…the…wards," gasped Lupin, clearly tired and out of breathe. Only a few days previous had been the full moon, and he was still recovering. "No one…knows how they…did it…guards…all dead…"

Harry didn't get a chance to hear any more as Remus ran off to the left, blocking a curse aimed at a small student.

_**And it's 'Hey Johnny-boy, where you marching too,**_

_**With your gun cradled in you hand?**_

_**Hey Johnny-boy, is the finish line**_

_**At the gates of the promised land?**_

_**At the gates of the promised land!'**_

Having never been in an all-out war before, Harry soon began to feel claustrophobic. The relentless smoke stung his eyes, and bodies jarred him from side to side, he was lost and scared. But he couldn't show it; he knew he needed to be strong, for everyone, but mostly for himself.

Ever-wary of being hit with a curse he span round, running every which way in an attempt to avoid being hit. Whenever he heard a cry for help, or worse, a wordless scream, he ran to it, trying to save as many as possible.

"Ron, duck!" he yelled when a Death Eater aimed a curse at his friend. Quickly, he brandished his own wand and aimed a particularly nasty hex at the man.

"Thanks mate, I owe you one," said Ron over the throng.

"Good luck," was all Harry said before running off in the direction of another scream.

So caught up was he in saving others that he became careless about his own safe-keeping, and was almost rendered helpless when curses flew past his body, sometimes just a hairs-breadth off target.

The-Boy-Who-Lived whirled round searching for another victim to his merciless wand when he saw, too late a Death Eater's wand pointed at his head. He jerked back, but the curse was already cast and he could not avoid it. As if in slow motion he watched the beam of light head his way, with no power to stop it. At the last minute he closed his eyes involuntarily, unable to face death, he felt, in the end.

But it wasn't the end, not yet. The curse was deflected just before it reached him by a thin shimmering shield. He looked around in shock, so sure he should be dead. His saviour was stunning his would-be killer.

"Ginny?" Harry said.

She looked at him blankly, turned and disappeared in the mess of bodies that surrounded them.

He stared after her, "Thank you," he whispered.

_**How long? Before they take your youth,**_

_**As they've done of' times before.**_

Death was in the air, you could taste it, a bitter tang on your tongue that would never go away no matter how long you lived.

Harry watched friends and foes alike falling around him, some at his own hand. Dancing the dance of death, the warriors from both sides pit themselves against each other, hoping to win, just one more battle, then another, then another, until they were so tired that it didn't matter who won anymore, just that it would end. The death, the injured trampled underfoot, screaming in pain. Enveloping the hall with darkness was the smoke from fires sprouting around the large room.

Harry witnessed horrific sights, his teachers dieing at the hands of Imperious cursed children, unable to bring themselves to hurt the children who could do nothing to stop.

He saw Seamus scream under the torturing influence of the craticus curse, and Professor Flitwick die at the hands of a Death Eater's Avada Kedavra.

He mourned the loss of friends he couldn't save, but still strove on to save at least some. Hope washed through him whenever he saw Ron or Hermione holding their own, knowing they at least could give as good as they got.

Death Eater's lay on the ground, some twitching as life left their bodies and some still and cold. Masks slipped off their faces, and Harry saw them for who they were. He saw people he recognised behind those masks, but many others were just strangers.

What stunned him was that he suddenly realised he felt the same his dead friends as he felt for the dead strangers. He found he couldn't cry.

_**And they'll tell you,**_

'_**It's a noble thing,**_

_**To fight on foreign shores.'**_

Harry couldn't feel anymore. So much death, so much loss, if he allowed himself to feel even once about how many lives were lost, how many futures were all for nought.

He couldn't tell if they were winning or losing, all he saw were men and women, even girls and boys, fighting for that small chance at life. Where he cut down one Death Eater another would soon follow, and another. Wave after wave, endless. The Death Eaters must have felt the same as the students and teachers alike charged in to replace fallen comrades, fighting for justice.

Harry had killed so many, stunned and cursed others, he knew that he was running out of magic, soon he simply wouldn't have enough energy to face Voldemort, that was probably the Dark Lord's plan, he realised.

Pushing through the throng, he defied ever bone in his body, screaming at him to stop. He looked around, searching for the first and last person he wanted to see, Voldemort.

_**Yet, it's true, sometimes there's little choice,**_

_**And the struggle must be won!**_

The doors of the great castle burst open, sending the warriors flying back, some landing with sickening crunches that Harry did not want to think about.

A dark figure strode in, hooded but unmistakable from the evil aura he protruded. But in the turmoil of battle one more dark-robed figure was nothing special, so only Harry knew that here, here stood the Dark Lord himself, Voldemort.

The figure threw back his hood, revealing pale pallid skin and slits for nostrils, the nose flattened and pig-like in his face. But the most striking features were his eyes, thin and slanted, glowing devil red.

Harry just stood as still as possible, frozen in fear. It was too soon, he needed more time, he wasn't ready, not yet! But the voices calling for him to run were quenched, he knew he had to do this, not because it was his destiny, or because he had to, but because he knew it was right, he knew he had to do it, for himself.

Steeling himself for what could mean his or another man's death, he marched forward to meet his foe.

_**But is it liberty you're dieing for,**_

_**Or just the grease that oils the guns?**_

Voldemort notices him almost immediately as he moved, his eyes narrowed in hatred as Harry stood a few feet away wand clutched tightly in his hand.

Harry raised his wand and opens his mouth, but Voldemort is too fast for him.

"_Crucio!" _

Unimaginable pain washes through him, he can't remember where he is, who he is, all he can remember is white-hot pain, laced with the deepest hatred and loathing he'd ever felt. Writhing on the ground, he fights to get away, anything but the pain! It stabs again and again, his legs, his arms, his sides, his heart. The combined ache of permanence mixed with the sharp needles of fire, over and over, all he could see was pain, all he felt was pain, all he was was pain.

No! He had to fight, he had to save everyone, he had to defeat the man who'd killed his parents, killed so many people. He tried to think of how he'd beaten the imperious curse, just keep pushing it away he willed himself. Slowly the unbearable pain abated, and he had never felt such wonderful release.

Remembering where he was, he stood up, shaky with the aftershocks of what his body had been through. Frantically, he tried to remember the forgotten curse he'd discovered.

Voldemort blinked lazily at him like a slumbering snake, then threw back his head with a sharp snap, letting out a loud bark of laughter.

"That pitiful display makes me want to finish such a pathetic creature as you as quickly as possible, just to rid the world of you wretchedness." He hissed, "But I will not grant you that mercy."

Voldemort raised his wand again, but this time Harry was faster.

_**And it's 'Hey Johnny-boy, where you marching too,**_

_**With your gun cradled in you hand?**_

_**Hey Johnny-boy, is the finish line**_

_**At the gates of the promised land?**_

Harry's wand whistled through the air to point at it's target before Voldemort could even blink again.

The wand pointed at Harry's forehead.

Voldemort stared, "do you wish to deny me the pleasure of killing you myself? I warn you, I do not give up that pleasure so easily."

Harry ignored him and concentrated on scraping together his last magical recesses.

"_Bicorpor inter caesa et porrectaaaaa!!!" _he screamed, pushing his very life force into the spell. An explosion of pure white erupted from his wand, engulfing both him and Lord Voldemort in a globe of blinding light. The last thing Harry hears before the darkness takes him is the inhuman screams of Voldemort, renting the air as the last breath escapes his snake-like lips.

_**And it's 'Hey Johnny-boy, where you marching too,**_

_**With your gun cradled in you hand?**_

_**Hey Johnny-boy, is the finish line**_

_**At the gates of the promised land?**_

_**At the gates of the promised land!!**_

xxxx

**Author's ramblings: **Hope you liked it, please review and I might be inclined to update my other fics. Check out my dad's website www . outfitmusic . com (copy + paste, remove spaces) for samples of his music and other stuff.

'_Hiulcus' _means to open, cleft or split apart.

'_Bicorpor inter caesa et porrecta' _literally means 'two bodies between slaughter and offering' i.e. at the last minute. I don't know Latin very well, so I _think_ that's what it means, but I may have mucked it up somewhere. Let me know.

This is Squibakou signing out.


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